


Shadow Prince

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [32]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya talks to the young heir, while Renji heads off to the Eleventh to execute their "plan" to save face with Soi Fon.  Things go... unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I have to make sure to thank [Josey (cestus)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey) for her help with this one. If she hadn't physically written the fight scene, there would be an "and then it was over" timeskip which would have annoyed everyone. So, if you enjoyed the fighting, you can thank her by going off and reading her epic ByaRen or anything else that strikes your fancy!

Byakuya lay his head back against the edge of the sento’s pool and watched Renji leave. With the door to the winter air open, the hot springs was nearly shrouded in mist. As Renji walked to the changing room, the black slashes of the tattoos on naked skin shifted with each muscle movement, making him look like a mythical creature padding through the fog.

How could such a man ever be afraid?

And, yet, he’d started to say it, too. He’d backpedaled, of course. What Renji said he feared was ‘The system.’ 

Byakuya grunted to himself—that answer was even more troublesome. Though such an attitude could not be unexpected given the events around Rukia’s near-execution and the company Renji had lately been keeping. 

“Ichigo,” Byakuya muttered. It was the best safe word possible, given how much that word made Byakuya cringe.

Turning around, Byakuya poured himself another bowl of tea. Leaning his elbows on the lip of the pool, he watched a ghost-white egret hunting among the reeds in the garden just beyond the open fusuma panels. 

He should consider starting his day soon. There were Division matters to deal with and, possibly, medical help to prepare…

“Byakuya-sama? You’re not sending the lieutenant off to die, are you?”

At the sound Shinobu’s soft voice, the egret burst into flight. Byakuya blinked in surprise, as Shinobu seemed to materialize out of the mist. Perhaps it was the white fluffy, oversized robe that the heir wore that blended so perfectly with the steam, but it was almost as if he’d stepped out of nowhere.

“You’ve been listening,” Byakuya noted with amusement. 

Once again, this young man reminded Byakuya of a younger version of himself. He used to love to spy on his grandfather, especially when talking to soldiers from the Division. 

After taking a sip of tea, Byakuya said, “This Kenpachi only goes for the killing blow if his opponent has sufficiently piqued his interest. Even with bankai and all he’s learned, Renji is no true match for Zaraki Kenpachi. The fight will entertain Zaraki only so long. He’ll grow bored and Renji will be spared.”

Shinobu’s face showed his concern plainly. Coming closer to sit beside where Byakuya stood, still mostly submerged in the water, Shinobu lifted the hem of his robe and slipped his bare feet into the hot water. With a daring little glance, he stole a treat from the tray and popped it into his mouth. “If you say so, my lord.”

“I do,” Byakuya said reassuringly. “If you listened to the whole argument, you know Renji proposed the solution.”

Shinobu wiggled his toes in the water. Hands gripped the stone lip of the pool and continued to hold the edges of the robe from slipping into the water. With his head bowed, dark, thick curls shrouded his face, though it was obvious he was thinking very hard. “Renji’s brother is your servant? Was Renji your servant too?”

Byakuya snorted. “No, of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Oh, uh…” Shinobu glanced up nervously at Byakuya, his face pink. “It’s just, you always call him Renji. He almost always calls you ‘Taicho’ or ‘Sir.’ Everyone here seems to know him, too. I thought… maybe he’d been elevated from the staff, and that his brother had tried to follow after.”

It was solid logic, given the facts that Shinobu had to work with. Byakuya was impressed with the boy’s mind. But, he shook his head, and pointed out the one flaw in Shinobu’s thinking: “If Renji had been my servant, he would call me ‘Taicho-sama’ or ‘my lord.’ Always,” Byakuya said. Taking a sip of tea, he mused, “I find I much prefer ‘Taicho’… especially from Renji.” 

When Byakuya realized he’d said that last part out loud, he explained to Shinobu’s curious eyes: “Renji has never been a soldier who is easily commanded. To be the one he calls his captain is a matter of honor and pride for me. You may not have heard, but Renji graduated in the top three of his class at Academy. He was originally recruited to the Fifth division, but, but was too… rebellious. Renji spent the majority of his career in the unruly 11th.”

“Oh! Under the Kenpachi!”

“Yes, so you see why I trust Renji to go there,” Byakuya said with a slight smile. “He understands the culture, the captain.” 

Having explained all that for Shinobu’s benefit made Byakuya realize something as well. Given the Divisional culture Renji came from, it was, in point of fact, fairly miraculous the extent to which Renji told his commanding officers anything. Byakuya imagined that Kenpachi was not the sort that expected regular reports, yet Renji had stepped into that role almost seamlessly. Normally, Renji was a fearless lieutenant. He took initiative to solve most problems and rarely held back information that might compromise or embarrass him—which was rare even among the higher ranks. 

Except in matters of family.

Byakuya supposed this was an understandable weakness. At least Renji had been quick to own up to it and take responsibility, pay for his mistakes. Really, to expect much more would be unreasonable.

Shinobu watched Byakuya’s face intently. “So Renji’s solution will work? The brother will be allowed to be a soldier?”

The brief surge of pride Byakuya had been feeling towards the Abarai name wobbled a little at the mention of Seichi. Byakuya suddenly felt overheated from the hot springs and, drinking the last of the tea, headed for the stairs. “That will remain to be seen. The only flaw in Renji’s plan is that I’m not nearly as certain that the Kenpachi will find Seichi worth the effort. There is a distinct possibility that Kenpachi will merely throw Seichi over the wall to be rid of a troublesome load.”

Shinobu looked crestfallen.

“Come,” Byakuya said kindly. “Let’s dress. I’ll show you around the Division while we await news.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Byakuya said. “But, only as a courtesy. It will be important as clan head for you to understand the working of the Gotei, but my intention for the Division is that its captaincy goes either to Renji or Rukia, which ever survives me.”

Byakuya was surprised to hear Shinobu confidently say, “Rukia then. Renji will go down defending you with his last breath.”

The smile that lifted the edges of Byakuya’s lips was genuine. “We shall see. Perhaps the idiot baboon will die today.”

Shinobu clasped Byakuya’s hand earnestly. “Don’t say that, Byakuya-sama! Banish, banish, banish!” Then, quite curiously, he made a very rustic sign against the evil eye that made Byakuya wonder where the boy had learned it.

“Have faith, Shinobu,” Byakuya said, squeezing his hand as they headed for the changing room. “I only say such things in jest. Renji Abarai can’t be taken down by words or superstition. He is the fiery ruby jewel in the crown on my Division, and he will prove it again today.” 

#

Renji figured he’d feel a lot better about all this if he knew what the fuck he was doing. The plan was solid; the details were murky.

A few blocks from the Eleventh’s main gate, Renji unsheathed and released Zabimaru. Resting the heavy weight of the shikai on his shoulders, Renji tried to figure out his best approach. Obviously, busting through with Zabimaru all out and at the ready would be asking for a fight, so that was good. But, should he collar Seichi first—a bird in the hand, as it were—or just demand they fork him over?

Considering that the actual point was to NOT bring Seichi back with him, Renji thought maybe he should just hike up to Kenpachi and give him a swift kick in the pants or something equally stupid like that.

Glancing at the rooftops, Renji wondered if that would really fool Soi Fon or her ninja spies. She was mean as a hornet, but not an idiot. 

So, right then--Renji had to make this look good: that meant having Seichi tucked up under one arm. 

Where would Seichi be hiding? Renji strode through the Eleventh’s gate like it was a thing he did every day. It hadn’t been that long since it was a thing he did all the time, so the ‘guard’—the awake one, anyway, just lifted a hand in greeting. 

“Oi,” Renji shouted up to him, “Who’s got dice game on?”

The guard laughed and pointed to Zabimaru. “You collecting some debt?”

“Something like that,” Renji acknowledged.

“Heh, you should remember there’s always something going in the pits, Abarai. Good luck!”

Renji gave the briefest nod and headed in. Well, he thought, adjusting Zabimaru’s weight, in was easy; getting out was going to be another story. 

It was only just after noon, so much of the Division was still waking up. A bleary-eyed and bedraggled line formed near the mess hall, waiting for the first tea of the day or the chefs’ hangover special. 

A few of the more alert people gave Zabimaru a wary double take, but Renji’s progress through the barracks towards the abandoned pits went otherwise unimpeded. 

The Eleventh had sprung up around an old arena that had, not all that long ago, held gladiatorial-style death-matches between Hollows and shinigami who’d fallen out of favor for whatever reason. Rumor had it that the first Kenpachi was a big fan of the blood sport and had set up camp here. Later, when the makeshift tents had transformed into barracks and dojo and headquarters and all that official jazz, the old proving grounds seemed like a fine enough place to hold the annual contest of strength for the title of Kenpachi.

The Division’s lowlifes tended to like the old pits for their underground chambers—the ones that used to be cells for Hollows and shinigami prisoners. During the annual contest, the chambers were used as green rooms/staging areas for the combatants, but, for the rest of the year, they stood empty, abandoned. 

A certain number of the chambers and tunnels went pretty far back, almost like catacombs. Every couple of decades some yahoo would get lost trying to map out all the various connections to other barracks. Some people claimed a former prisoner had dug their way from the pits into the sewer system, but Renji wasn’t so sure. That’d be an awfully useful escape route or—given the Eleventh, stealth attack. One of the Kenpachis would have been all over that. 

Having made his way to the far end of the Eleventh, Renji spotted the pits. 

In other parts of the Seireitei, the pits were just square holes in the ground that people tossed garbage in. This one had been extended into a long rectangle. Stadium seating rose in a semi-circle around the pit, and had also been carved down to ground level for ‘ring side’ action viewing. Renji took the stone step/seating down to the pit’s stage entrances. 

Sure enough, the moment he was on the open field, Renji could see that one of the prison gates had been slid partway open. Thanks to the amazing acoustics of the pit, Renji could catch the shouts of “chō” and “han” and the rattling of dice.

He picked up the pace. Might as well go in swinging.

Even if Seichi wasn’t in there, these were the types of guys who’d know where Seichi was sleeping these days. Renji shouldered the door aside, and bellowed, “I’m looking for something that belongs to the Sixth! Pony up now, you bastards, or I’ll bash your heads in—“

Renji expected the shocked looking faces, blinking up into the sudden sun, the dice, the stench of stale beer and man-sweat. He even figured he’d see a familiar face or two. But, Renji never thought it would be—

“Daisuke?”

That was him, wasn’t it? Yeah, no, Renji definitely recognized him despite being a fuck-ton dirtier, his blond hair hanging in filthy clumps. The kimono he wore might have once been fancy, but now it was little more than shredded, muck-covered rags. His cheek was bruised and swollen. There were scratch marks crisscrossing his legs and forearms. A manacle on his wrist was attached by a long chain to the wall… Oh. No. This was… no, just no.

“What the living fuck?” Renji sputtered, even as a horrible scenario played itself out in his mind. 

His eyes pinned the gamblers next, “You fucking bastards,” he snarled and dropped Zabimaru from his shoulder to a ready position before kicking his way through the dice game to where Daisuke was cowering. The gamblers scattered in their surprise, letting out yelps of fear when Renji brought Zabimaru round in a strong underhand sweep. But he wasn't aiming at them, yet. The toothed blade shot out to hit where chain connected to wall. Sparks flew and metal shattered. 

“Like I said,” Renji continued, offering a hand up to Daisuke. “I’ve come to claim property of the Sixth. Anyone gets in my way, dies.”

One of the gamblers, a bruiser of a dude with a square buzz cut that did nothing for his already squared off and squashed face, stood up slowly, “Oi, you can’t come in here and take my stuff.”

“Yeah? Is that so?” Renji pointed the tip of Zabimaru’s fang at the speaker. Daisuke, meanwhile, had struggled to wobbly feet. Clinging under Renji’s arm, Daisuke’s whole body trembled against Renji’s side. “Because I’m pretty sure what we have here is stolen property, taken from a Kuchiki tea house. And it looks to me like you’ve been helping yourself to a whole lot of what don’t belong to you.”

“Hey, I stole him fair and square! Possession is like nine, um…” clearly unable to do the math, the bruiser smiled crookedly and shrugged, “…a big part of the law. So I got him, he’s mine.”

“Yeah but, you was losing,” one of the other gamblers, this one skinny as a rail and lanky-haired, said. “In a minute, he was going to be mine.”

Okay, that was just gross. Renji really didn’t give any more fucks about what anyone had to say on the matter. He swung Zabimaru wide, in an arcing double slash--letting him bite anything he wanted. 

Blood spattered. Daisuke made a little noise, but it sounded more like relief than fear.

Sealing Zabimaru, Renji flicked the gore from the blade and sheathed him. Amid the groaning and the anguished protests, Renji scooped Daisuke up into his arms. “Hey,” Daisuke said in surprise. “I can walk!”

Tough kid if he really could after all this abuse. This close Daisuke smelled sour, like unlaundered sheets and spilled beer, making Renji even angrier, wondering how long he’d been living like that, traded around like—ugh. A red haze of rage filled Renji’s mind, shutting down his ability to think straight.

He stomped mindlessly toward the front gate.

“I didn’t think my message had gotten through. Or, I thought maybe your captain had… lost interest,” Daisuke said, his voice hoarse, like maybe they hadn’t even been giving him much to drink. Renji didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the heart to tell Daisuke that he and Byakuya had completely forgotten about him. 

With Daisuke bundled in his arms, Renji was garnering a lot more attention. People openly stared, pointed, and began whispering. So far, though, no shouts to stop; Renji hoped it was his fierce glare that kept them at bay.

Daisuke tisked his tongue at the attention and muttered, “You’re surprisingly romantic, Lieutenant. I can walk.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not walking far,” Renji growled. “I’m getting you out that gate and then we’re flashing straight to the Fourth.”

In his intense focus, Renji didn’t see the pole end of Hōzukimaru’s released form, until it knocked the side of his head, stopping him up short. Despite the blow to the head, Renji managed to keep hold of Daisuke. As he shook himself out, Ikkaku came striding up. “What makes you think you’re getting out the gate?”

Ikkaku had stopped Renji in the most awkward place—right in front of the mess hall in one of the narrowest sections of the Division. Perfect for Hōzukimaru’s pole action, but kind of shit for Zabimaru’s need to stretch. 

Before Renji could answer, Seichi broke from the crowd. Renji might not have recognized him in full shihakushō, but it seemed they were both wearing their facial tattoos today, and ‘Dog” could clearly be read on Seichi’s forehead. “Renji! I heard you were here. What’s going on?”

“Ah, Seichi,” Renji said, glancing down at the perturbed looking Daisuke, then to Ikkaku, and back to Seichi. “Ah, shit.”

A crowd had started to gather, so Renji released Daisuke’s legs so he could stand on his own. Once Daisuke seemed like he’d gotten his feet under Renji let him go. He shifted slightly to stand behind Renji and away from the crowd. Daisuke seemed wary, like someone might nab him.

Great, Renji thought, now I got to watch the crowd and Ikkaku.

Meanwhile, Ikkaku’s eyes were a laser focus filled with that crazy-itching-for-a-fight look. With a resolved sigh, Renji said, “Seems you all been harboring a bunch of things what belong to Kuchiki. I’m taking them back.”

Ikkaku seemed to think that was enough of a challenge and took a stance.

From the rooftop where he sat primly, as though ready to enjoy a show, Yumichika called out, “What things? What are you talking about?”

Renji kept an eye on Ikkaku and drew Zabimaru. With his other hand he gestured to Daisuke, “This one was stolen from a… Kuchiki business in the Rukongai.” Jabbing his thumb at Seichi, Renji continued, “That one’s supposed to be a Kuchiki retainer at the estate. I’m on orders from my captain to bring ‘im back.”

Yumichika laughed unkindly. “Fetching run off slaves for your master? I guess you really are a dog of the military now, eh, Renji?”

Far too many people laughed. Just how much of the division had come out to watch this? Renji glanced around only to see he was surrounded. Great. Well, it wasn’t like Renji hadn’t expected this. Might as well show off some—he released Zabimaru silently.

He got a few impressed ‘ooh’s for that.

Apparently none of these idiots had noticed Ikkaku had done the same not five seconds ago. Renji’s head ached from where the butt end of Hōzukimaru had slammed into him, but Renji knew Ikkaku hadn’t hit with anywhere near full-force. If he had, Renji’d be concussed and this fight’d be over before it started. Heck, his eyes weren’t even all that blurry. Must’ve been nothing more than a ‘love tap.’

“But…” Seichi was saying, from where stood slightly apart from the crowd, “But, Renji, you said you’d help me, you said it was okay if I stayed, you said—“

“It doesn’t fucking matter what _I_ said,” Renji snarled, cutting him off. “What matters is what my captain says.”

Ikkaku was getting restless and flung out a lazy opening salvo, testing him. Renji countered it easily. This, after all, was a game they’d played many times before. Ikkaku, who could never be rushed into a fight, was warming him up, warming up the crowd, warming up Hōzukimaru. 

“Boring. It’s clear you guys have fought a million times together,” came Kenpachi’s booming voice. “Stop boxing the snake in a corner, Ikkaku. Give him a little wiggle room. Let ‘im use his bankai. Then things _might_ get interesting.”

“This snake is a thief. He’s come in here to steal our things,” Yumichika said. “Maybe trapping him in the corner and giving him a good boxing would teach him a lesson.”

“Maybe,” Kenpachi agreed, though he sounded unconvinced. “Don’t seem sporting. I like me a little sport. I say we go to the pits, let Abarai fight for these bits and bobs he wants.”

At Kenpachi's words, the crowd surged forwards, intent on grabbing Renji and Ikkaku and carrying them to the pits, the way it always went at the Eleventh after a challenge was issued. The body surfing stopped anyone from sneaking off, or so they said. Normally, Renji'd be all for it.

This time, not so much. Not when anyone could up and run off with Daisuke.

Locking his fingers around Daisuke's wrist, Renji set his feet. He lifted Zabimaru and snarled, "I can use my own damn feet," at the advancing shinigami.

As one, they looked for direction. Not at Kenpachi but at Ikkaku, whose eyes narrowed and shifted restlessly from Renji to Daisuke and back again. Then he gave a short sharp nod and turned away.

The crowd melted back, opening a path back towards the pits. Renji puffed out a breath and glanced back at Daisuke. "When we get there, I'm going to lock you in a cell," he said. "For your own protection, got it?"

Daisuke paled some, but nodded. "Who gets the key?" he asked.

Good question. Renji considered it as they followed Ikkaku through the excitedly yelling crowd and back down the steep stone steps he'd not long climbed up.

Keeping the key himself was too risky. There was nowhere on his person he could guarantee it would be safe; clothes got damaged in fights. The Kenpachi wouldn't care enough, and Yachiru…? She'd probably throw it in Byakuya's pond or trade it for candy.

Stone turned to dirt beneath his feet, the arena opened up around them, and the time for thinking was over.

Renji led Daisuke over to the only cell that still locked. It was the Division’s only attempt at anything resembling a guardhouse, though it was hardly ever used, except by those few idiots so moronic as to need to be transferred to the Maggot’s Nest.

For a second, Renji thought Daisuke might balk at being locked up again, but then frightened blue eyes met his, and Daisuke asked, “Are you strong enough?”

“Uh, I’m fairly confident,” Renji admitted.

"If, by some chance, you lose, please tell Captain Kyōraku where I am," Daisuke said. Straightening his shoulders, he stepped inside the cell.

Renji blinked before sliding the door closed. Huh. It had never once occurred to him to enlist Captain Kyōraku’s help, even though he had a vested interest. Guess this was why Daisuke was the spy and not Renji.

With a reassuring nod at Daisuke, Renji turned the key that rested in the lock. Pulling it out, Renji tossed it gently in his hand, as he spun on his heel to find the person he was looking for.

Yumichika leaned over the edge of the stands talking to Ikkaku, but his eyes were on Renji, as penetrating and knowing as ever. A short shunpo step took Renji over to them and Yumichika held out his hand without Renji even asking.

Renji wanted to say something like, ‘you know what he is, right?’ but bringing up stuff that was kind-of-maybe-supposed to be some big secret from Yumichika’s past could backfire. So, Renji just gave him a hard look and said, “I’m trusting you,” as he dropped the key into Yumichika’s hand.

Slim, perfectly manicured fingers closed around it. "So's the boy," Yumichika said, and his smile wasn't beautiful at all. "We all make mistakes."

It was too late to grab the key back, and anyway, if Renji did win here, he wouldn't need it get Daisuke back. Zabimaru's teeth would bite through the bars as effectively as they had the manacle.

And if Renji lost? Well, he'd just have to make sure he was alive enough to let Captain Kyōraku know where his spy had got off to.

The whip whir of Hōzukimaru moving through the air was the only warning Renji got that the conversation was over. This time he managed to duck the blow. Two flash steps took Renji to the far end of the arena, where he stopped. As he unsheathed Zabimaru, he glared at Ikkaku for that cheat of a start. Guess warm-up time was over, eh?

The red tassel on the end of Hōzukimaru spun through the air as Ikkaku twirled it around. "Hear that new bankai of yours didn't do so good in Hueco Mundo," he called, voice carrying easily all the way to Renji. "Bit pathetic needing a rescue from the nerd squad."

A retort about how that hadn't been his fault, and that Urahara had half-crippled him with that Quincy condom thing sprang to Renji's lips. He clamped his teeth closed on it. Goading back and forth might be tradition at the Eleventh but he was representing the Sixth now. He couldn't afford to start getting into it with Ikkaku Madarame.

Instead he gripped Zabimaru more tightly, reached inside himself and yanked. "Bankai, Hihiou Zabimaru!"

Reiatsu poured out of him and with it, Zabimaru's bankai form. Some curled around him, solidifying into the familiar furry cowl. The rest shot upwards, a rotating spiral of power that punched through itself and screamed into being as the snake's head and body.

As the dust cleared, shocked gasps went up around the arena. Even Ikkaku seemed to take half a step back in surprise. Renji couldn't help a surge of pride at the reaction. He and Zabimaru had worked hard to achieve bankai. They deserved the chance to show it off.

#

If only it was that simple.

When Ikkaku leapt over the snake's head for the umpteenth time and sprinted towards him up the shifting, roiling segments, Renji cursed himself for not seeing this coming.

Fighting Ikkaku was never easy.

The man was fast, skilled, and with bankai level reiatsu, even if it was hidden, was as resilient as Renji himself. Even getting caught by Zabimaru's bone canon had only lightly toasted him. Now he was coming again.

Panting shallowly, Renji whipped the giant snakehead round, driving it down into its own coils to try and catch the madly scampering shinigami dashing along its back. Ikkaku yelled something undecipherable, but clearly taunting, as he dropped, using the edge of the segment as a launching point to fling himself closer to Renji.

As if Zabimaru were a kid's climbing frame, Ikkaku darted amongst the coils. Then, with one final touch, he was in Renji's face, Hōzukimaru outstretched, expression a leering mask of streaked blood and glee. "Gotcha!"

Renji ducked the blow. As the wind of it whistled past, Renji heard Ikkaku call, "Split apart, Hōzukimaru!" and knew he had about a second to pull a miracle out of his ass or he was a dead shinigami walking.

Thankfully, Renji'd spent hours training his bankai against someone almost as strong and just as single-minded as Ikkaku Madarame. And now was the time to use that experience.

Instead of coming back up, he kept going down, hitting the ground flat, teeth gritting against the pain of previous injuries.

Above him, Zabimaru's snakehead caught the still attacking Ikkaku smack in the rear end, snapping his head back and sending him spinning up into the air.

Zabimaru followed, a dog chasing after a ball, and grabbed the half-stunned Ikkaku. Tossing Ikkaku again, Zabimaru flung him even higher this time. Even all this abuse wasn't going to be enough though, not with Ikkaku. As soon as he got his bearings back, he'd be coming again, Renji knew, and now he'd seen that move, he wouldn't fall for it again.

As the crowd cheered and howled, Renji dragged himself to his feet,blinking blood out of his eyes and one hand pressed to his side. Bone ends grated together at the pressure and his breath caught. Damn it, he hated broken ribs. They hurt like hell, and made it really hard to breath. Worse, they affected how well he could control Zabimaru, which meant Ikkaku was finding it easier and easier to break through their defenses. Renji had to stop him now, or he wouldn't stop him at all.

Being defeated in bankai by someone in shikai, even if it was Ikkaku, would be an impossible humiliation to swallow.

_Ideas?_ he asked, projecting the thought inward.

Zabimaru's voice sounded kind of muffled, like he might have a mouthful of shinigami. _Eat him?_

Renji swallowed a dark laugh at that thought. _Probably not so much,_ he returned. 

After all, killing another member of the Gotei, even during a duel, was frowned on. They had to think of a better option. Renji’s gaze fell on the dark open maws of the tunnels. How many victims had ended their days down there, he wondered.

And then... Maybe two birds with one stone?

Up in Zabimaru's jaws, Ikkaku was stirring. Renji felt his reiatsu start to pulse and rise. He was coming round and this time there'd be no stopping him.

Intent flooded Renji's body, drowning out the pain and stiffness. He'd pay for it later, but right now, he needed to have absolute control over Zabimaru. Driving his heel into the ground, he dragged back on the hilt, then let the movement whip forwards, his eyes and body and thoughts all aligning with the furthest most of those tunnels.

Zabimaru careened forwards, heavy segments skimming just above the ground, the power and speed of his passage kicking up a choking storm of dust and sand. Mere feet from the wall, Renji gave the order. "Hikotsu taihou!"

Scarlet power blasted up Zabimaru's body and, using Ikkaku as a cannon ball, obliterated the wall ahead of them. Shouts went up around the arena. Renji ignored them. Still not enough. Ikkaku was down but not out.

A single thought conveyed his strategy. With a growl of fierce satisfaction, Zabimaru shattered, its segments exploding in all directions amongst the flying rubble. The tone of the crowd changed from worried to jeering.

Renji smirked to himself, waited for the dust to settle enough to see Ikkaku lying amongst the tumbled rock, and said, "Now."

The segments dove towards Ikkaku, reiatsu flooding back between them. In the center, something like the baboon canon formed, but stronger, more powerful. It was something he'd developed against Sado, a potential killing blow for an awkward close quarters fighter. But he'd never thought he'd end up using against the man who'd been his sempai.

Ikkaku… who hid his bankai so he could stay with his captain. Who held himself back so as not to surpass the man he claimed to respect.

That made no sense. Not to Renji.

Did it to Kenpachi?

Renji didn't know. All he was sure of was that he and Ikkaku were different. When the time came, he'd challenge Byakuya and beat him, whether they were still lovers or not. Byakuya would expect nothing less.

Red filled Renji's sight. A noise like a thousand bombs exploding filled his ears. And Renji finally let himself relax. Ikkaku was still alive, a faintly guttering flame of reiatsu in amongst the rubble but he wouldn't be moving again. Not for a good long while.

Renji had won.

Now the challenge was not to face plant in relief and exhaustion. As Zabimaru collapse back inside, sealing, Renji felt something tear—a hole in the Quincy condom or… ugh, just a stitch from the broken ribs? He grasped his side, doubling over. As he pulled himself back upright the shadow of Kenpachi stood over him.

There was a wild ‘happy’ grin on Kenpachi’s face as he said, “That’s one of your bits. You want to fight me for the other?”

Oh, fuck. No way he could—well, actually, he could, but it’d be a smack down in Renji’s current state. “I’ll just take the one, if it’s all the same, sir.”

“Ah, fuck, Abarai. That bankai of yours looked fun,” Kenpachi said, disappointed. 

Renji thought for a second that Kenpachi would push the matter and there’d be a fight no matter what. Instead, after a final frown, Kenpachi turned on his heels and grumped: “Fine. I’m keeping the one wearing my uniform. If Kuchiki wants that one back bad enough, tell him he can come fetch him himself.”

“Will do, sir,” Renji said, heading for where Yumichika held the key out in two fingers, away from his body, making a face like it smelled.

Renji grabbed it with a smile, and then winced at the movement. Even so, he could hardly believe his luck.

Somehow he wasn’t dead and the plan had fucking worked.


End file.
